


Good Omens Oneshots

by King_Scrungo



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: "Do you wanna build a snowman?", "No.", 4000 BCE era Beelzebub and Gabriel, Alchemy, Arbor Day, But Worse, Damn kids, Fear, GET OUT OF MY SWAMP, Gabriel needs to chill, Gen, Get off my lawn, Halloween, It's like sand, Snow, Snow is gross, Snowball Fight, Trees, ancient earth, as in the literal physical embodiment of fear, bonding over a shared hatred of snow, happy holidays, it's cold, just fear, snow haters anonymous, the "holidays" being arbor day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21621682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/King_Scrungo/pseuds/King_Scrungo
Summary: My collection of silly oneshots and drabbles for Good Omens.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. No Solicitors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crowleyisnotsoft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowleyisnotsoft/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley attempts to deter trick-or-treaters from the bookshop.

However subjective it may be, the underlying forces of human fear do have substance, murky and grim. This fear, as it turns out, can relatively easily be bottled in its liquid state. The witches of old created a recipe to brew liquid fear, traditionally used to deter travelers away from their huts. Any creature with a crystal vial and a decent amount of free time can follow the steps to create what is known as the Elixer of Earthly Terror, a vile concoction of all the things that so transfix humanity.

Feather of goose, venom of snake (that one had been easy), fang of acrylic, rain, allowed to ferment for three full moons upon the tallest peak. After completing the arduous task of gathering the idols of fear, the demon Crowley followed the instructions religiously to break them down to their essence. And now, many hours of hard work later, he strolled proudly into the Soho bookshop carrying an ornate vial of the ebony Elixer.

The liquid in the vial was of an ink-like consistency, thick and goopy as it swirled around its container with each step the demon took. Beyond dark in color, blacker than black, it seemed to suck in all the light around it like a vacuum. The mesmerizing texture drew the eye in until one could look at nothing else as they are consumed by the darkness. It was like staring into the void. And the void stared back.

"Aziraphale? I'm here," Crowley called casually into the empty book shop, absently passing the vial between his bony hands.

Stepping out of the backroom, the angel to whom Crowley was speaking to appeared in the bookshop. Aziraphale flashed a quick smile, "Ah, Crowley. I was going to--" he paused and inquisitively eyed the pitch vial, "what is that you have?"

"What?" Crowley glanced down at the vial in his hands, "Oh, that. It's fear."

"Fear--?"

"Yep. What were you saying?"

"Why on Earth do you have fear?"

"To ward off trick-or-treaters," Crowley shrugged.

"Crowley," sighed Aziraphale, his tone more annoyed than anything, "this is a bookshop in the middle of London. I hardly think we'll get many--"

The angel trailed off as loud knock resonated from the front door, followed by the cacophonous giggle of children. Crowley raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything aloud.

"But you can't be serious. It--" Aziraphale glimpsed the ancient grandfather clock that oversaw the rows of antique books and declared, "it's four in the afternoon!"

"Remember when Halloween was about spirits and rituals?" Crowley reminisced, turning towards the door and gripping the brass handle, "Where've those days gone?"

"Trick or treat!" Chorused a group of children in shabby felt costumes. On the doorstep stood three kids masquerading as a pumpkin, a cat, and a rather offensive devil.

"Get lost," Crowley hissed, craning his neck to tower over the group. His words were met with blank, expectant stares.

"Go!" he urged after an uncomfortably long moment of no one moving. A collective mumble rose among the costumed children outside as the hesitantly shuffled away. Glaring venomously after them, Crowley frowned deeply. 

"Well, I'll be," Aziraphale approached, peering outside.

Without taking his eyes off the departing trick-or-treaters, Crowley uncorked the vial containing the Elixer of Earthly Terror. A thin trail of dark vapor levitated out from the opening, glittering like dying stars. Behind his sunglasses, the demon's yellowed eyes glittered with malicious intent. With a scowl, he flipped the vial over in one hand and poured its contents onto the doorstep. A jet black stain appeared where the Elixer made contact with the pavement, looking more like a bottomless hole than a puddle.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Aziraphale hazarded as the last of the substance dripped out from the lip of the vial.

"It's fine. No one will even notice," as soon as Crowley finished speaking, a deafening rush of wind drowned out any further objections Aziraphale could have made. Howling as they scraped along the edges of the storefront, currents of icy wind suddenly and unnaturally gathered in the doorway.

Thick, black smoke rose in a wave from the essence of human fear currently residing at Crowley's feet, a wall of darkness ascending into the late-afternoon sky. Within mere seconds, the smoke had filled the sky so completely that it blotted out the sun, plunging London into a void-like gloom as the wind suddenly abated and the air grew eerily still. Any human unfortunate enough to be wandering the streets bolted for cover like rats from a torch, finding themselves overcome by an insurmountable sense of dread. Hastily, Crowley stepped back inside and slammed the door shut, turning his gaze to meet Aziraphale's bewildered expression with a nervous grin.

"Whoops."


	2. The First Snowball Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel visits Earth to witness the grand unveiling of The Almighty's newest invention: Winter.

Word-on-the-street was that the Almighty had come up with another invention for the domain of Earth; a brand new experience for the creatures of that strange little rock God had been so obsessed with lately. It rather seemed like everyone couldn't get enough of the near-daily updates on the advancement of the human race and its environment. And now, whatever this latest thing She had bestowed upon the planet Earth must have been utterly brilliant by the non-stop praise and chattering of what must have been all of the angels in Heaven.

All of them, that is, except one Archangel who was struggling to get on-board with the whole thing.

Frankly, Gabriel didn't understand what the big deal was with this so-called "Earth." The Almighty had been hyping it up since Creation, but the Archangel had yet to be given a reason to care about the new realm. Sure, it had been interesting at first as many freshly received things are, but ever since those original two humans had left Eden, things were just... weird. Gabriel couldn't help but wonder if the creation of man was REALLY the pinnacle of God's ability.

Not that he would ever doubt the Almighty, of course; he simply had been expecting something a little different from this whole project. Gabriel just wished the other angels would stop talking about this new thing they called "snow" and start talking about something actually important. Like fighting demons, or how to fight demons, or the Powers' plans to defeat the forces of Hell. Even the Powers themselves, though, had been more focused on Earth than the very imminent threat of demonic invasion (at least, that's how Gabriel saw it).

Normally, he wouldn't have cared enough to make a special trip to visit Earth. Today, however, he had a mission from Metatron: to announce a new season to the Principalities of Earth. Though he vastly preferred staying in Heaven and doing what work he had there, Gabriel gladly and without question carried out the King of Angel's orders.

The first thing Gabriel noticed upon arriving on Earth was the cold. The last time he had to visit the planet, the weather had been bright and warm. Now, however, the sun shone dim and the sky blanketed the earth in a gray shroud. Everything looked dead: the grass had turned brown and fallen limply to the ground; the trees were barren and skeletal, their leaves having vanished; not a single animal could be seen or heard across the land. The entranceway to Heaven also appeared to have been moved, as the distinct desert landscape of Mesopotamia was nowhere to be seen.

And the rain - or rather, what Gabriel assumed to be the "snow" the other angels spoke of - was solid white, floating to the ground in lethargic patterns. Instead of puddles, the fluffy white substance accumulated in piles on the ground, turning the brown dead grass a sparkling white.

The new season was to be called "Winter," a time in which it rained ice and the weather generally stayed cold and bleak. A time when plants died and water froze, when animals went into hiding everything slowly starved. It seemed somewhat counter-intuitive, but who was Gabriel to question the Great Plan?

With caution, he stepped forward. The snow crunched sickeningly underneath his feet, like stepping into a pool of one-thousand freezing ants. The texture felt unpleasant against the soles of his sandals and viscous snow stuck to his feet and he took another step forward. Immediately, Gabriel felt uncomfortable in the new environment.

"So this is snow--?" He murmured to himself, unable to hide the disgust he felt in his inflection.

"Izzzn't it awful?" A voice hissed from behind.

Gabriel snapped his gaze around to see who had spoken and found himself face-to-face with some strikingly unholy. The stranger of hellish origin looked like they had just been in a wrestling match through a patch of mud. Their face was covered in grime and their clothes more closely resembled black and red scraps than any coherent garment. They were short but had a mean, no-nonsense glint in their jet black eyes, which matched up well with the malicious swarm of pitch horseflies buzzing around their head.

A demon. Of course, the last thing Gabriel needed.

"Uh, what?" He frowned.

"The new rain, it's terrible," the demon clarified, bending down to scoop up a handful of snow. It slipped through their fingers. Like sand, but worse.

Gabriel's frown deepened. Trying to ignore the demon to avoid conflict, he walked away. He headed in the direction of Britons, where the announcement was to be made. The little demon trotted alongside him. "Can you /please/..." he paused to shoot them a glare, "leave?"

"Am I annoying you?" They sneered derisively.

"I don't even know who you are." Gabriel quickened his pace, grimacing with each noisy step in the snow.

"Beelzebub," they answered. Gabriel knew he recognized the name from somewhere, and his suspicions were only confirmed when the demon continued, "Lord of Hell."

"And I'm the Archangel fucking Gabriel," he snapped in response, his tone laced with hostility. The very idea that he was in the presence of such a filthy creature made him sick. Without so much as a glance at the demon, he asked, "what's the 'Lord of Hell' doing here, anyway?"

"Harassing you."

Gabriel stopped in his tracks, turning his gaze to look the demon Beelzebub directly in their inky black eyes. "Well," he began. Tying to force as much contempt into his voice as possible, he commanded simply, "don't."

The Lord of Hell's mocking expression softened slightly. Gabriel trusted that he had gotten the message through. The Archangel walked away and the demon was left to stand in their place, staring after him. He had taken only a handful of steps when something cold and wet hit him squarely in the back. Whipping around, he saw Beelzebub giving him a defiant glare as they scooped up an armful of snow.

"Did you just assault me?" Gabriel accused.

As a response, the demon lobbed another chunk of snow. It slammed harmlessly into his shoulder.

"So help me I will... I'll... smite you--!" Roared the Archangel.

The demon Beelzebub held up another fistful of snow. Before they could throw it, Gabriel raised an arm to the sky. The clouds parted and everything within a 10-foot radius was doused in holy light. All of the snow evaporated instantly under the golden glow of the Heavens. Cowering, the demon took a hurried step back to escape the circle of light.

"That's cheating," Beelzebub glowered in a low voice, "you're cheating."

The ring of holy light gradually dissipated. Falling snow quickly began to fill in the gap that had been made. In one fluid movement, Gabriel scooped up a pile of snow and flung it at the demon. They flinched.

"See how you like it..." he mumbled through gritted teeth.

With an expression of pure revulsion, Beelzebub brushed the snow off of their clothes. They looked at the piles of snow on the ground, and then at Gabriel. Suddenly, they burst out laughing. It was an unpleasant, raspy laugh, bordering on maniacal. Something deep within their throat buzzed, like an overbearing swarm of jovial wasps. The sound stopped abruptly and Beelzebub's face quickly returned to deadpan.

"It's really is awful, this... zzzznow," they offered.

Incredulous, Gabriel raised an eyebrow and gave a mostly condescending smile. "Yeah," he agreed, "it really is."


	3. Happy Holidays!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale celebrate the holidays together.

It was the quiet sort of evening in the old book shop, peaceful and devoid of human life. The layers of dust that coated the oldest books in the shop tremored, resonating with each continuous drop of April rain. Rays of gold and purple light filtered in through the red calico shades that protected the windows, glittering as the sun approached the horizon. It was lovely, truly, silent but with just enough white noise to make one feel a deep sense of calm in the dimly lit environment of the rows upon rows of old books.

That is, until Crowley arrived.

The dusty grandfather's clock that patrolled the rows of antique books had just struck six when the gnarled door to the old Soho shop burst open with such a force that the miniature copper bell that hung above it catapulted off its hook. With a confused ding, it came to a rest at the feet of a rather bewildered angel, just as the brass doorknob smashed against the fully stocked shelf immediately behind the door. A cascade of books precipated from the shelf, having been knocked loose.

"Happy holidays!" Exclaimed a tall, wirey, and slightly disheveled demon as he marched, unapologetically, into A.Z. Fell and Co. Antiquarian and Unusual Books. The door slammed shut behind him. Treading with care through a sea of overturned books, Crowley grinned as he held aloft a small, tropical-looking tree in a ceramic pot. "Uh, sorry about the books."

Bewildered by the sudden cacophonous entrance, Aziraphale shook his head swiftly before promptly stepping towards the door to reorder the array of his precious books that were now on the floor. "What ever do you mean? It's the middle of April, dear."

"I know I didn't call ahead, but I came as soon as I heard," Crowley said quickly and excitedly, with a brisk nod.

"Heard what?"

"It's Arbor Day, angel! It's a thing now. A whole day about... arbors, I guess. I brought a plant to celebrate. Its name is, uh-- what's your name?" Crowley shot a glance at the plant. It said nothing in response. He frowned. "You'll talk eventually."

"A human occasion?" Aziraphale slid the last book back into its place. "Why?"

"Come on, Arbor Day! We got, y'know, arbors-- and stuff."

"You do love arbors..." Aziraphale muttered.

"Anyway," Crowley placed the little tree onto the front counter, "seen any good arbors lately?"

Aziraphale blinked a couple of times, "can't say I have."

"Yeah me neither."

"You- so you celebrate human holidays now?" Aziraphale hazarded.

"Nah, I just wanted to, uh, y'know--" Crowley's eyes widened and he cut himself off, suddenly avoiding Aziraphale's gaze, "be... here.

"Oh--"

"Arbors!" Crowley interjected loudly, "who doesn't love a good arbor?"


End file.
